“I don’t know yet who or what Alex Rhodes is,” he said. “But I think it’s safe to assume that any man who would hire a nineteen-year-old student to go through someone’s personal effects in search of identification data is probably not a very nice guy.”
Julie started to weep again.
Leonora touched her shoulder. “Calm down. Mr. Walker and I will handle this from here on in. But in the meantime, I think he’s right. It’s probably best if you don’t have any more contact with Alex Rhodes.”
Julie looked up at her with wet, doleful eyes. “But what about my fifty dollars?”
“I’ll tell you what.” Leonora reached down to unclasp her satchel. She took out her wallet. “I’ll give you the fifty dollars that Rhodes owes you.”
“Uh, Leonora,” Thomas said.
She paid no attention. Instead she opened the wallet, took out some cash and handed the bills to Julie.
“Thanks.” Julie took the cash with alacrity, counted it swiftly and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. “Don’t worry, I won’t go to see Mr. Rhodes again.”
“We appreciate your assistance in this matter,” Leonora said.
“Sure.” Julie hurried to open the door. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a ten o’clock English Lit class.”
Thomas followed Leonora to the door. “With any luck,” he said casually, “this will be the end of it for you.”
Julie frowned. “What do you mean, with any luck?”
“In the end, we might be forced to bring in the police.” He moved out into the hall and turned to smile at her. “You never can tell.”
Julie threw him another traumatized look and shut the door.
Leonora glared at him. “There was no need to add that last bit about the cops. She’d told us what we wanted to know.”
“She conned you out of that money.”
“Big deal. It was worth fifty bucks to find out that Alex Rhodes was doing research on me, wasn’t it?”
“That’s beside the point. I didn’t like the way she did
it. What I told her about the cops may be the truth,” he said. “The more we get into this thing, the more I think we will eventually have to take it to the authorities.”
“Fine by me.” Leonora clutched her satchel in her left hand and fell into step beside him. “When?”
“I don’t know. We don’t have enough yet. Ed Stovall has made it pretty clear he can’t justify reopening the investigation into Bethany’s death unless we bring him something solid in the way of evidence. Not after what he went through with Deke when Bethany died. He thinks my brother is a nutcase.”
She searched his face. “You’re starting to believe that we may actually be investigating a couple of murders, aren’t you?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the nagging sensation that something big and nasty and endowed with a lot of teeth was bearing down on him.
“I’m still not ready to buy into a murder conspiracy theory,” he said. “But I’ve got to admit that I’m coming to the conclusion that Rhodes is a serious problem.”
“I’m calling because
a friend of mine needs some professional advice and Herb is the only advice columnist I know,” Leonora said on the other end of the line. “I’d go online and email him in care of ‘Ask Henrietta,’ but I know he’s busy and he might not notice my question right away.”
“He’s swamped, all right.” Gloria settled into her armchair and propped her feet on the small hassock. She surveyed her ankles closely. By the time she had gotten home from the shopping expedition to the mall, they had been swollen. She knew from experience that if she kept them elevated for a while they would slim down. “Don’t tell Herb, but between you and me, ‘Ask Henrietta’ is the most popular column in the
Gazette
. More questions coming in every day. Herb’s talking about getting an assistant.”
“I was afraid of that. This is sort of an emergency. I thought maybe you could go down the hall, get the answers we need and then call me back right away.”
“We?” Gloria repeated cautiously.
“I mean, the answers my friend needs,” Leonora amended quickly. “Here’s the deal. The guy lost his wife about a year ago. He hasn’t gotten involved with anyone else since her death. I think maybe the marriage had some problems and he’s got some unresolved issues. The point is, my friend wants to get his attention. Make him focus on her, if you see what I mean.”
“I understand, dear.” Gloria cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, picked up a pen and a pad of paper and started to make notes. “Does this man have children?”
“No.”
“Hobbies?”
“Well, he’s really into computers.”
“I see.” She wrote down
nerd
. “Anything else Herb should know about him?”
“I can’t think of anything. Call me back as soon as you can after you talk to Herb, okay?”
“All right, dear, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, and, Gloria?”
“Yes, dear?”
“While you’re asking Herb about my friend’s problem could you ask him one other quick little question?”
“What’s that, dear?”
“Ask him—” Leonora broke off and cleared her throat cautiously. “Ask him if he thinks there’s any possibility of a long-term, committed relationship between a divorced man who likes to work with his tools and who doesn’t plan to ever marry again and is afraid to have kids, and a . . . a woman who is from a somewhat different background.”
“How different?”
“Well, she’s more academically inclined, I guess you could say. And she does think she might like to get
married. And have kids. Assuming the right man comes along.”
Gloria was proud of herself. She didn’t miss a beat. “No problem, dear. I’ll get back to you as soon as I talk to Herb.”
“Thanks.”
“Everything else going all right up there?”
“Yes, I think we’re actually making some progress. Thomas is talking about taking the information we have to the cops. I have to say, it would be a great relief to turn everything over to the authorities.”
Gloria frowned. “Does that mean you think Meredith and this other woman, Bethany Walker, really were murdered?”
“I’m afraid it’s possible, yes. Drugs may be involved. We still don’t know exactly what’s going on here.”
“Dear heaven.” She thought about that for a few seconds and then tightened her grip on the phone. “Leonora?”
“Yes?”
“Listen, dear, you’re not in any personal danger there in Wing Cove, are you?”
“Good grief, no. Don’t worry about that, Grandma. I’m fine. Honest.”
“You’re quite certain?”
“Absolutely certain.”
“Very well. I’ll go talk to Herb and then call you back.”
“Thanks. Bye for now.”
“Good-bye, dear.”
Gloria ended the call and sat studying her notes for a long moment. A man who likes to work with tools . . . a woman who is from a somewhat different background . . .
She tossed the notebook aside, grabbed the walker that stood next to the chair and hauled herself to her feet.
She paused in the bathroom long enough to apply a
coat of bright-red lipstick and then she headed toward the door of her apartment.
To hell with her swollen ankles. She would worry about elevating them later.
She made the trek to Herb’s apartment in excellent time. He opened the door in short order.
“If you’re here to chew me out because my column is running too long, forget it,” he said. “Not my fault half the subscribers want advice from ‘Ask Henrietta.’ ”
“I’m not here about the column, Herb, this is personal. I think Leonora is falling in love. We need help. Fast.”
“Huh.” He stood back. “Come on in. I’ll see what I can do.”
She maneuvered the walker into the apartment, turned around and sat down on the attached seat. “She called on the pretext of getting advice for a friend. But toward the end of the conversation she threw in the zinger about the man she’s interested in herself. At least, I think she’s talking about herself.”
Herb sat down in the chair in front of the computer and put on his reading glasses. “Give me what you’ve got.”
She ran through her notes very quickly.
Herb thought for a while. “This is easy.”
“Easy?”
“Well, I’m sure Leonora and her friend will make it a lot more difficult than it needs to be on accounta when you’re that age, this kind of thing is always more complicated. But we’ll see what we can do. Get her on the phone.”
Gloria took her cell phone out of her pocket and punched in Leonora’s number.
Leonora answered on the first ring.
“Gloria?”
“Yes, dear. I’m here in Herb’s apartment. He’s ready with his advice.”
“Great. I’ve got a pen and some paper. Fire away.”
Gloria looked expectantly at Herb.
“Feed ’em,” Herb said.
Gloria frowned at him.
“What did he say?” Leonora asked.
“Hang on a second, dear.” She looked up. “What did you say, Herb?”
“I said, tell Leonora and her friend to cook up a real nice meal for those two men they’re after. Way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Always has been, always will be.”
Gloria spoke into the phone. “Herb says to cook a nice meal for the gentlemen in question.”
“Cook for them?” Leonora sounded skeptical. “Isn’t that a little old-fashioned?”
Gloria held the phone away from her face. “Leonora says that sounds old-fashioned.”
“Look, you came to an expert for advice,” Herb said. “I’m giving it to you.”
“Take it easy, I was just double-checking.” She went back to the phone. “Herb says the old adage about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach is still valid.”
“Well, all right. Any advice on the meal?”
Gloria held the phone away again. “Any advice on what to serve, Herb?”
“Lasagna would be nice.” Herb leaned back in his chair and got a wistful expression on his face. “With lots of cheese. And maybe a nice green salad made with romaine lettuce and some of those little crouton things. Some red wine. Good bread. And don’t forget dessert. Dessert is real important.”
“Are you getting this down, dear?” Gloria asked.
“I got the part about the lasagna, salad, bread and red wine. What about dessert?”
Gloria looked inquiringly at Herb. “What’s best for dessert?”
“Pie,” Herb said. “A big slice of hot apple pie with homemade crust. The flaky kind, not that ready-made cardboard crap they sell in the supermarkets. And a big dollop of vanilla ice cream on top.”
“I can tell someone is pining for the days when he didn’t have to worry about his cholesterol medication.” Gloria chuckled. She went back to the phone. “Did you hear that, dear? Apple pie and ice cream.”
“I heard.” Leonora paused and lowered her voice. “What did he say about my other question? You know, the one concerning the man who likes to work with tools and is afraid of marriage and having a family?”
“Hang on, dear.” Gloria looked at Herb. “What about the chances of an academically inclined woman finding true love with a man who likes to work with tools and is afraid of marriage?”
“Don’t see any problem there.” Herb looked wise and all-knowing. “Been my experience that a man who’s good with his tools can handle just about anything that comes along in life.”
“That sounded very cryptic,” Leonora said on the other end. “What’s it supposed to mean?”
Gloria scowled at Herb. “What’s that mean? That stuff about a man who’s good with tools being able to handle things?”
“Never mind,” Herb said enigmatically. “Tell her to concentrate on finding some good recipes for lasagna and apple pie.”
“That’s it from this end,” Gloria said. “Good luck, dear.”
“Wait,” Leonora said. “One more thing. Say this person from an academic background, say she had already served one meal to this man who’s good with tools.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Say that what she fed him was leftovers,” Leonora said grimly. “Would that be a problem? Has she already shot herself in the foot?”
Gloria put her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Herb. “She wants to know if she has already shot herself in the foot because she served this tool man a meal made up of leftovers.”
“What kind of leftovers?” Herb asked.
Gloria took her hand off the mouthpiece. “What kind of leftovers?”
“Potato salad and some sandwiches.” Leonora hesitated. “The potato salad was made from your recipe, Grandma.”
Gloria looked at Herb. “My potato salad and some sandwiches.”
“No problem with your potato salad,” Herb said. “Tell her she’s still in the running.”
Gloria cleared her throat. “Herb says your
friend
who served the leftovers is still in the running, thanks to my potato salad.”
“Oh, good. Thank Herb for us, Gloria.”
“I will, dear.” Gloria ended the call and dropped the cell phone into her pocket. She beamed at Herb. “I appreciate this, Herb.”
“If I get her married off for you, you’re gonna owe me, Gloria.”
“I’ll cook you a nice lasagna-and-apple-pie dinner.”
“Forget the lasagna and apple pie. You know what I want.”
She sighed. “Your name on the column.”
“You got that right. We got a deal?”
“Deal,” Gloria said.
They were standing
on Deke’s back porch looking out at the cove. Wrench was investigating some bushes at the
foot of the steps. Technically speaking it was twilight but it was hard to tell for sure, Thomas thought. The fog had come in again, blurring the line between day and night. The wispy stuff had thinned a little during the afternoon but it had never entirely dissipated. Now, in the face of the oncoming darkness, it was once again growing dense.
In fact, he decided, the fog this evening was downright eerie. With a little imagination you could almost convince yourself that it was some kind of otherworldly vapor. It seemed to rise up from the cove, weakening the barrier between the real world and the one on the other side of the looking glass.
Down below on the jogging path, occasional shadowy silhouettes appeared and disappeared in the mist. Each was heralded by the distant, hollow echo of shoes hitting pavement. You could tell whether the next figure to materialize briefly would be a runner, a jogger or a walker based on the rhythm of the footfalls.